High School Sweetheart
by Karma Kat 281
Summary: Antonio comes back to his high school after living in Spain for a year only to find that things are definitely not how he left them. Specifically, a blond loudmouth is holding his Lovi's hand. Spamano, Romerica, highschool!AU
1. Chapter 1

**I love Romerica! There's just not enough of it, so I wrote this. It's most likely going to be a series of connecting almost-drabbles, primarily for my own amusement. If you want seriously-good Romerica, go to the genius Coffee-Flavored Fate.**

**Disclaimer: Hidekaz Himaruya owns Hetalia, not me. **

**xXx**

Antonio pulled into the parking lot and got out of his car. He looked up at the building in front of him and was swamped by a sea of memories. Painting wacky designs all over the walls with Francis and Gilbert, and the subsequent meeting in the principal's office featured prominently among them. Mostly, however, he thought of his cute little tomato, Lovi. A year was a long time to go without seeing his blushing, frowning, adorable face.

"'Tonio!" a voice called, and the brunet looked over to see Francis striding over, a grin on his face. "So Spain got boring, huh, and you had to come back to lame old high school? But I understand. How could you keep away from _this_?" the blond smirked, gesturing to himself.

Antonio just laughed. "I missed you too, Francis," he answered, "And we have to hang out later, _si? _I just wanted to see Lovi, first…" He looked at his former, and now current, high school. The Spanish boy was so excited that he almost missed Francis cringe. "Er, yes," the French teen started. "About _cher _Lovino…There's a problem."

The green-eyed brunet looked at him, puzzled. "Problem?"

"Well," Francis started, before being cut off by someone honking their horn obnoxiously. They both looked over, and then the blond sighed in exasperation. "_That_ problem."

The two high school seniors watched as a blond boy got out of his car and approached the school building, calling up to an open window on the second floor, "Hey! Lovino!" Antonio jolted and stared up at the window. Sure enough, a slim brunet came into view. The Spaniard would have recognized him from the scowl alone.

"What the hell is your problem, bastard?" the boy shouted down at the blond below. "Haha, nothing!" the blond boy in the aviator's jacket called back. "Just wanted to get your attention!" Lovino put his hands on his hips and his scowl got fiercer, belying the slight blush on his face. "Well now you have it, _bastardo. _What do you want?"

The blond just grinned. "Come to lunch with me?"

Lovino blinked in surprise and lost his disgruntled expression. "What, now?"

"Of course!"

"I'm in study hall!"

"Skip!"

"What? Why should I?"

"Because I miss you, Lovi~" the blond whined.

Blushing fiercely now, the boy in the window answered, "You saw me this morning, idiot!"

"I know! That was a whole three hours ago! I miss you!"

The two boys watching the exuberant exchange could almost feel the heat of Lovino's blushing face from where they were standing, as the brunet sputtered in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. "Argh! Fine!" he finally spat out. "But you're paying, _bastardo_!"

The blond just laughed. "Fine!" he called back.

"And no McDonald's!" With that, the brunet disappeared from the window. Neither seemed to care what people may have thought of the shouted exchange they just had, but surprisingly, not many people were even staring. It was as if this kind of display was commonplace.

In shock, Antonio turned to Francis, who also seemed unsurprised. "Who-," the Spanish boy started, before words seemed to fail him. Francis understood what he meant. "That," the blond boy answered, "Was Alfred F. Jones. Also known as your problem."


	2. Chapter 2

"Who-," the Spanish boy started, before words seemed to fail him. Francis understood what he meant. "That," the blond boy answered, "Was Alfred F. Jones. Also known as your problem."

Antonio stood frozen for a moment, white-faced, before he took off towards the front door, ignoring Francis' calls to come back. Before he got to the door, however, his blond friend caught him and pulled him behind a large shrub. "Francis-," the Spanish boy started heatedly, before being shushed. "Watch," Francis whispered. They peered through the leaves, waiting for the brunet to come into view.

Soon enough, the door opened and out came Lovino. Antonio dug his fingernails into his palms. Then the blond boy- Jones, Antonio reminded himself- bounded into view. The tall blond scooped a protesting Lovino up and swung him around, laughing cheerily, then set him down. Alfred grabbed Lovino's backpack and slung it over his shoulder. With his free hand, the boy grabbed the smaller brunet's hand.

Antonio waited for his _tomate _to push the blond away, swearing, but instead Lovino just blushed. Slack-jawed, the Spanish boy watched the two walk away.

Antonio collapsed on the ground. He put his head in his hands. It was a sign of his friendship that Francis joined him, despite the peril the grass posed to his pants. The blond sighed and stared up at the sky, leaning back on his hands. "A lot has changed since you left," he said.

The brunet just asked quietly, "Are they dating?" Francis hesitated. "Well, they say they're just 'best friends', but honestly, you'd have to be stupid to believe that," he finally replied. Antonio groaned. "I am so screwed."

Francis leered, but thought better of his comment upon looking at his friend's bowed head. Instead, he just suggested softly, "Perhaps you should just let him go. He was a wreck after you left, but even I can tell that he's been ridiculously happy lately. He only scowls half of the time, instead of all of it."

Antonio was silent before looking up, steely determination in his green eyes. "I didn't give up through years of him swearing at me and pushing me away; I'm not going to give up now."

Francis shook his head. "You are too stubborn, _mon ami._ Fine. I have to go bother Arthur now in the student council room, but I will see you later. You, me, and Gil will go drinking tonight, yes?"

Despite himself, the brunet grinned. Some things don't change, after all. "_Si_," he replied. When his friend had left, Antonio sprang up from the grass, cheery mood regained. He had work to do, if he was going to win his Lovi back. The first step? To let Lovino know he was back. He needed to figure out where those two went. Antonio pulled out his phone. He knew just who to call.


	3. Chapter 3

**xXx**

Feliciano sat in math class, doodling in his notebook. He was trying to pay attention, he really was! Ludwig always says that if he didn't pay attention in class, he wouldn't go to college or get a good future or make enough to afford pasta some day! It all sounded very serious. It was just that math class was so boring, and it was almost lunch time. He had pasta for lunch today. Ve~pasta…

Suddenly, his phone vibrated. Feliciano jumped, then looked around guiltily. He sneakily pulled his phone out of his pocket. The call was from- Antonio? Ve~! He hadn't heard from Antonio in forever! Happily, he answered his phone.

"Antonio! How is Spain~?"

"Feli!" the voice from the phone sang back. "It was great! But now I am back and I have a question for you."

"You're back?" the Italian gasped. "That is wonderful! _Fratello _will be so pleased!"

Antonio chuckled. "Well, I hope so. But that brings me to my question. I just saw Lovi leaving with a tall, blond boy. Where are they going?"

Feli hummed and tilted his head, thinking. "Well, he left with Alfred of course. And it's lunchtime, so they must have gone to the cute little Italian place on the corner. They go there a lot because it is close by and cheap. Alfred usually ends up paying for both of them, you see."

There is a pause. Feliciano asked worriedly, "Antonio? Are you still there?"

"_Si, si,_" the voice answered hurriedly. "_Lo siento, _I just got lost in my thoughts for a moment. I have to go now, but thanks, Feli!"

"Bye!" the little Italian answered, and hung up. Hmm, Antonio sounded strange at the end. He hoped that the Spanish boy was all right. Feliciano blinked as he saw his whole math class, including his teacher, staring at him. "What?" he asked, confused. Ludwig was turning a rather worrying shade of purple. Feli always told him that he needed to calm down, if he didn't want to have high blood pressure some day!

The teacher just slapped her palm on her forehead and thanked God that it was almost lunchtime.

**xXx**


	4. Chapter 4

Lovino sat at the table, eating his pasta. "Slow down," he scolded, poking the blond across from him with his fork. "Haha, sorry Lovi," Alfred responded. "I'm just super hungry!"

"You're a bottomless pit," the brunet snorted fondly, but scraped some of his food onto Alfred's plate. "You don't have to do that!" the blond protested, only to be waved off. "I'm never going to eat all of this anyway," justified Lovino.

"You should!" Alfred responded, grasping the smaller boy's wrist. "Look how skinny you are! My hand can fit all the way around your wrist." Lovino blushed and scowled. "You're just huge," he said, tugging his hand away.

Everything was wonderfully normal, so normal, in fact, that at first he almost didn't register what his eyes were telling him. The pasta was good, Alfred was saying something stupidly cute again, and Antonio was standing in the street, looking at him. Wait a minute. _Antonio_ was standing _in the street_ looking at _him_. What. The fucking. Hell. Lovino jolted away from the table. He threw a "Wait there, bastard!" over his shoulder before racing outside.

Sure enough, Lovino thought, taking in the tousled brown hair and eyes greener than the grass, it was Antonio. Lovino wasn't sure if he was lightheaded from getting up too fast or because _Antonio_ was standing _right the fuck there! _He opened his mouth but didn't know what to say, besides the obvious, of course, so he went with that. "Antonio? What the _fuck_ are you doing here?"

"Hi, Lovi," the older brunet smiled nervously. "I missed you."

The Italian jerked as if slapped, and then snapped, "You _missed_ me, _bastardo_? _Missed me_?" He then dissolved into a slew of swear words- a mixture of incomprehensible English and Italian, with a bit of Spanish thrown in for good measure. He tried not to remember for whom he had started learning Spanish in the first place.

Lovino was so far gone that he did not even notice the tears streaming down his face. Panicking, the older teen tried to calm him down. He gripped Lovino's arm and tried to pull him closer. "Lovi, Lovi, Lovi," he pleaded. "Calm down, _mi tomate_." The Italian fought him tooth and nail, tears and snot running down his face. "Let go of me!" he managed to choke out. Antonio just tried to drag him closer into a hug, before being stopped by an iron grip on his forearm.

He looked up to see the blond from earlier (Alfred Jones, his memory supplied). "He said to let. Him. Go." Jones said evenly. _Smiles don't have the right to be that scary, _the Spanish boy thought erratically. The blond hadn't looked so tall earlier, either. His arm was beginning to hurt, so Antonio reluctantly let go of his (_crying!_) Lovi. "Thank you," Alfred said politely. "Lovino, did you want to talk to him?"

The Italian was now crying too hard to be understood, but shook his head. "That's what I thought." The blonde's smile slid off as if it had never existed. What replaced it made Antonio nostalgic for the smile, as creepy as it had been. "Then get the fuck out," Alfred ordered, wrapping an arm around Lovino and pulling him closer.

Antonio turned and left, not because of anything the blond said, but because when _Alfred _pulled Lovi towards him, the slender brunet went.

**xXx**

Lovino felt like an idiot. He saw the bastard for the first time in over a year, and instead of chewing him out, he had cried like a little girl. And Alfred had seen him like that, too. The brunet buried his face in the taller boy's shirt and gripped the edge of his bomber jacket. This was so embarrassing, but he couldn't stop. It was as if everything he had felt since Antonio left had conglomerated into one giant knife that was stabbing him in the gut.

He finally managed to pull himself together and looked up at the blond. Cornflower blue eyes stared down at him in concern through wire-frame glasses. "I thought I told you to wait there," he sniffed. "Idiot."

Alfred smiled. "You know I could see you guys through the window, right? I saw you crying and of course I came."

Lovino blushed and leaned against Alfred, worn out. The blond stroked one hand down his back. "Hey," he murmured. "I have to go pay before they think we skipped out on the bill, okay? But I'll be right back," he promised. Alfred shrugged out of his jacket and placed it around Lovino's shoulders before going back inside. The brunet pulled it closer around himself. It smelt like Alfred (a mixture of freshly-cut grass and fast food) and he felt a little better. A few minutes later, the blond came out and wrapped an arm around the Italian's shoulders. "Come on. Let's go home."


	5. Chapter 5

Lovino sat on his couch and sipped his coffee. He had recovered enough to make it for himself because, although Alfred was good at a lot of things, his coffee was shit. The house was silent and empty apart from the two teens; Feliciano was still at school and _Nonno _was at work. Alfred, bearing his own cup of coffee, sat down next to him and looked at him. The brunet didn't meet his eyes. It was fucking embarrassing, the mess he had turned into. On a public sidewalk, no less. He groaned.

"Lovino?" Alfred asked, touching his arm gently. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," he snapped, pulling his arm away. "Never tell _anyone_ what you saw back there, understand?"

"Haha, fine," Alfred laughed. "But at least tell me who that guy was, okay?"

Lovino paused. He really didn't want to talk about this, but if anyone deserved an explanation, the blond did. "Ugh," he grunted, putting his coffee down and throwing his arm over his eyes. "Sit down, bastard, and get ready for the long haul.

"His name is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. You just moved here last year, so you've never met him, but he used to go to our school. He's a year older than me. We…" here the Italian trailed off, not exactly sure how to explain the relationship they had.

"Dated?" Alfred filled in the pause, eyes dark and grip on his mug tight. "Not exactly," Lovino replied. "He kept asking me out, but I always said no. I knew him since I was little, he was practically my best friend, and…and I probably would have said yes, eventually. And then he left. For a year in Spain to study Spanish history with some famous professor his uncle knew. The fucker didn't even say goodbye."

Lovino stared down at his knees. That explanation did absolutely no justice to what the boy had meant to him, or what he had went through when the green-eyed Spaniard left, but he didn't know how else to explain. More than the bare bones would be taking pieces of off him, pieces that he wasn't sure he could afford to lose.

Luckily, Alfred seemed to understand. Solemn, as he so seldom was, the blue-eyed boy said softly, "You were in love with him, weren't you." It wasn't a question, so Lovino didn't even try to answer it. He scrubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes. He was so fucking tired.

"That's not the worst of it," the Italian continued. "I was upset, but it wasn't too bad. Every so often I would get a postcard in the mail from various places in Spain, with a note on the back. Usually something idiotic about tomatoes," he snorted. "I saved every one.

"Then, one day, I was there when Feli got the mail. Usually I worked at that time, but for whatever reason I was home that day. I can't even remember why anymore. He gave a little cry of excitement, you know how he does, and said, 'Oh yay! Another postcard from Antonio! Here's yours, Lovi!'

"He handed me a postcard and then looked at his. They were the same fucking postcard. Different messages, but still. The fucker was sending us the same postcard the whole time."

Lovino fell silent, and Alfred knew that the smaller boy was done. The blond didn't really get why sending him and his brother the same postcard was so awful, but he _did _understand that Lovi was really hurt by it. He reached over and pulled the brunet into a hug. Lovino let him, for a moment, before pushing him off and standing up, already pulling himself back into the present. "I'm fine," he said, not looking at Alfred. "But I'm tired. Go away."

Despite Alfred's protests, the Italian showed him to the door. Alfred stopped it before it could be closed on him entirely, however. Leaning down, the tall American peered into Lovino's face. "I'll pick you up tomorrow, like usual, okay?" he asked anxiously.

He was relieved to see the familiar annoyed expression on the hazel-eyed brunet's face. "Fine, fine," Lovino answered. "Goodbye." And he shut the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**I apologize for the long wait. **

**xXx**

Alfred stormed into his house, letting the door slam close behind him. It wasn't often that the American lost his temper, but when he did everyone around him knew it. He swore and punched the wall, leaving a dent in the yellow-painted surface.

His brother Mathew leaned out of the kitchen, concerned look on his face. "Al?" he asked. "What's the matter?" The fact that his little brother should be in school right now didn't even filter through the red haze in his brain. He was too angry at that fucking Spaniard. He messed up Lovino in the past and now he was _back_- Alfred stopped his train of thoughts before he punched something else.

"Seriously, Alfred, what happened?" Mathew asked, stepping toward him. The blue-eyed teen paused. He probably shouldn't go around telling people what Lovino told him, but he trusted Mattie. Besides, he was so fucking pissed off right now he that needed to talk to someone and let off steam before he did something drastic.

Like find the Spaniard and teach him exactly why it was a bad idea to make Lovino cry.

He tore himself away from that tempting thought at the sight of his younger twin's concerned violet eyes. "Sit down, Mattie," Alfred said, and then told him exactly what the slender brunet had told him earlier.

At the end of it, the younger boy sat with his hands pressed over his mouth, eyes wide and horrified. "That's _awful_…" he whispered.

Al tilted his head, confused. "So, you get why Lovino was so crushed over the postcard thing?" he asked. "'Cause I know he was super upset, I just don't really know why…"

Mathew looked at him sadly. "I understand perfectly," he responded, and then muttered under his breath, "probably better than anyone else could, actually." Alfred still looked blank.

"It's like this," the violet-eyed boy explained. "You know how he sometimes gets insecure about his brother, right?" The confused blond nodded. Mathew continued, "Well, how do you think he felt when he learned Antonio was treating him exactly like his twin brother? _Antonio_?"

"Oh!" Alfred's blue eyes got huge, and then narrowed in sadness. "I see," he said softly.

Mathew nodded, and then looked off into the distance, eyes narrowed. "If Gil ever did something like that to me and then tried crawling back," Mathew declared, "I would take off his head with a hockey stick."

Alfred smiled at that pleasant vision. He had never liked his little bro's boyfriend anyway. "Haha, probably can't do that to Antonio," he laughed, despite the little voice clamoring for just that in the back of his mind. "We'll save that as the backup plan, though. For now, wanna help me keep that guy away from Lovino?"

Mathew nodded seriously. "It's a plan."

**xXx**

**Do not underestimate Mathew. 'nuff said.**


	7. Chapter 7

Antonio, in a fetal position on the Beilschmidt's coach, sobbed softly. Ignoring him, Gilbert walked in from the kitchen toting three beers. He handed one to Francis, who was sitting in the arm chair, and then offered one to curled mess on the coach. The Spanish boy didn't look up. The albino shrugged and set it down on the coffee table. He opened his and sat back with a sigh of satisfaction.

"Didn't go well, I take it?" Gilbert finally asked. There was no response, but the brunet's sobs grew louder. Francis winced. "I _did _warn him," the blond muttered, before turning towards Antonio. "Come on," Francis coaxed. "Sit up and tell us what happened, _cher_. Perhaps we can help!"

"Uh-uh," the albino immediately negated, rearing back and waving his hands in front of him in denial. "Birdie called me earlier and told me that I was _not_ allowed to help Antonio win back the Italian brat. Sorry, 'Tonio, you two are on your own."

Antonio finally looked up, wet tracks making marks on his puzzled face. "Who's 'Birdie'?" he asked, only to be talked over by a snickering Francis. "What," the blonde smirked, "You were threatened with the couch?"

The German boy scowled. "NO! He just…" and here his words trickled off into an incomprehensible murmur. "He _what_?" Francis asked, grinning. "He said he'd never make pancakes for me ever again, all right?" Gilbert spat out, his normally pale face now closer to the color of his eyes. Antonio just looked from one to the other, extremely confused. Francis was practically rolling on the floor in laughter, and the white-haired boy was telling him to shut up, that he didn't understand the awesomeness that was Mattie's pancakes!

Finally, Francis took pity on Antonio and told him that "Birdie" was Gil's boyfriend. "He's _trés mignon_," the French boy said with a fond smile. "But I do not understand what he has against you, Antonio. _Matthieu_ is not the type to arbitrarily take sides, even for his brother. "

Gilbert laughed. "Especially for his brother!" he added. "But yeah, I don't know. He sounded super pissed, actually. Something about postcards? I didn't really get it."

Antonio had no idea, either. "'Brother'?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. "Oh yeah," Gilbert realized. "I guess you wouldn't know, would you? Mattie is Alfred's twin brother."

The Spanish boy's tan face turned pale. "He's everywheeerrre!" The sobs renewed. Francis and Gilbert both face-palmed. Finally, the auburn-haired boy managed to choke out, "I l-love him!"

Francis tilted his head. "Alfred?" he asked, mouth twitching.

"Noooo!" the Spanish boy wailed. "Lovino!"

His two friends sobered. Antonio was obviously in pain. Hesitantly, Gilbert ventured, "Yeah, that's another thing Matt said. He said that he was sure you didn't mean to hurt Lovino, but you obviously understood him so little that you may as well have hated him."

The Spanish boy stilled. "What I mean to say is," the albino went on uncomfortably. "Maybe being in love with him isn't enough, you know? You have to be good for him, too."

After a long, uncomfortable pause, Antonio said quietly, "What do you mean 'I don't understand him'? What did I do wrong?" Gilbert looked at the third member of their trio in desperation. "Back me up!" he mouthed quickly. Francis stepped in smoothly, "What I think he means, _cher_, is that sometimes the two of you do not have the best communication, _n'est-ce pas_? For example, you did not said goodbye to him when you left, did you?"

"Well, no," Antonio answered, bewildered, "But that was because I knew that if I saw him, I wouldn't have been able to force myself to leave."

"Did he know that?"

"Umm…" Antonio paled even more, this time in guilt. "Uh, no."

His two friends just gave him pointed looks.

A long silence filled the room, in which Antonio looked increasingly more despairing. "What am I going to do?" he mumbled.

"There, there," the blond boy said lightly, patting the Spaniard's back. "Even if Gil has betrayed you, you still have me, _mon cher!"_

Not insulted, Gilbert just snorted. "You're just supporting him 'cause you know Kirkland's gonna take Alfred's side," the red-eyed boy accused.

Francis shrugged. "What, can't I have two reasons?"

**xXx**

**Every story has two sides. (Except that Gil is totally whipped. That's indisputable.)**

_**Translations:**_

_**Trés mignon- **_**very cute**

_**N'est-ce pas- **_**isn't that so**

_**Mon cher- **_**my dear**


	8. Chapter 8

Alfred spun the soccer ball on his knee and grinned. The sky was blue, with barely any clouds. A fresh-smelling breeze skimmed the top of his blond hair. He could almost forget all of the drama of the past few days.

And then he looked up.

Standing in front of him, wearing basketball shorts, a t-shirt, and a pair of sneakers, was Antonio Carriedo. Also known as the bastard that made Lovino cry.

Alfred's grin grew sharper. The Spanish boy smiled back. The surrounding students felt shivers go down their backs and didn't know why. "_Hola_," the brunet started, extending his hand. "We haven't been introduced yet, have we? My name is Antonio Carriedo."

He winced as Alfred crushed his hand. The blond's jaw ached as he forced his smile to remain. "Alfred F. Jones," he replied.

"Right," Antonio nodded, still smiling but subtly shaking his hand out behind his back. "I wanted to declare my intentions."

"Intentions?" Alfred raised an eyebrow.

"Towards Lovi," the green-eyed teen clarified. "I know you two are dating, but I am in love with him and will try my hardest to win him back. I just thought you deserved fair warning."

Alfred's head snapped back. "You stay away from him!" he said hotly. "You've already done enough damage- wait, dating?" The blond blinked, finally losing his hostile aura.

Antonio blinked. "Yes…?"

"We're not dating."

"…What?"

"We're not dating. We're best friends."

"But…everyone said… Wait a minute! If you're not dating, then what's the problem? Just back off, _si?_."

Alfred's vicious glare returned. "Like hell! He's my best friend and there's no way I'm letting you near him."

Antonio snorted. "If a guy I didn't like was dating one of _my _best friends, I might complain a little, but I wouldn't try to actively interfere. That's not what 'friends' do. So what's your excuse?"

The blond opened his mouth to retort, only to be unable to find the words. "I…" he started, before trailing off, looking confused. He had truly never questioned the _why _of it before, all Alfred knew was that he wanted Lovino smiling and happy at any cost. Was that really not normal friend behavior? And if that was true, that still didn't explain his bone-deep aversion of Antonio getting anywhere near Lovino. After all, the Italian could very well be happy with him if he forgave him.

Alfred felt sick at the thought.

Finally, Antonio got tired of waiting. He snorted dismissively and turned on his heel.

Alfred almost just let him go, but then he shook himself. He couldn't let that guy get to him! That's not what heroes do! He can figure out the whys and wherefores later, Lovi needs him now and that's what matters.

"Wait!" the American shouted. The Spanish boy paused, and then slowly turned around. His cheerful smile looked more like a patronizing smirk to Alfred. "_Si?_" the green eyed boy asked.

Alfred frantically tried to think of something to say. "Er…er…ah…Oh screw it."

He kicked the soccer ball at Antonio's face.

Antonio dodged it like a ninja, and then raised an eyebrow at the blond teen. He laughed. "You want to play soccer?" he asked. "Okay!"

Alfred hesitated, and then went with it. What the hell. It's not like he's a bad player, you know?

He gave a confident grin to the older boy, and then planted his feet firmly in a ready position. "Game on!"

**xXx**

**Anyone want to beta me?**

**Also, plot? What plot? XD**


	9. Chapter 9

The sun blazed down relentlessly on the two teens as they faced off in the middle of the field. A drop of sweat trickled down the back of Alfred's neck. He ignored it. Antonio flicked his sweaty bangs out of his eyes. There was a tense silence.

Suddenly, both teens darted forward. Alfred swept his leg forward, only to have the ball disappear out from under him as Antonio kicked it down the field. The blond quickly spun around and charged forward, keeping his larger body blocking Antonio, who was also running towards the ball.

Alfred reached the ball just in time for the Spanish teen to slide-tackle him from behind. Alfred hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of the other. The older teen leapt back up and started dribbling the ball towards the goal. He laughed. "Come on, _mi amigo!"_ Antonio called over his shoulder. "You can do better than that!"

Alfred was already up and sprinting after the green-eyed boy. Fast as he is, Alfred still didn't stand a chance; Antonio was already at the goal. The brunet took a step and then pivoted, kicking the ball with all his strength. The black and white ball _whumph_ed solidly into the net.

Alfred skidded to a disappointed stop next to the grinning brunet. His blue eyes glared in frustration at the net, and then he turned to Antonio. "I'll score the next one," he panted. The Spanish boy's grin widened. "How did you say it earlier?" he replied cheerily. "Oh yes- bring it on!"

When they restarted, Alfred reached the ball first. He almost made it to his net before Antonio cut out in front of him, gracefully stealing the ball and spinning away. The Spanish boy took off dribbling towards his half of the field, the blond hot on his heels.

Antonio was too busy laughing to run very hard, and the American teen knocked into him roughly, sending Antonio stumbling forward and promptly stealing the ball. "Ha!" the blond cheered, and then took off dribbling down the field in a zigzag pattern. "Where are you going?" Antonio panted behind him, still laughing. "Haven't you ever seen nature shows?" Alfred shouted back. "You run in a zigzag to confuse predators!"

"That's alligators!" Antonio yelled, and tackled Alfred from behind.

"Hey!" the blond shouted, spitting out dirt. "This isn't football, you know!"

"Technically, it is," Antonio pointed out reasonably from his position of crushing Alfred into the ground. "It's you Americans who call it by the wrong name."

"It's the right name!" Alfred retorted, and heaved upward, sending Antonio sprawling and surging to his feet. He reclaimed the ball, and quickly scored before Antonio even made it up from the ground. "One to one!" he crowed triumphantly, punching the air. "Yeah, yeah," Antonio rolled his green eyes, trying to hide a smile. "Let's see how long you can keep up, Jones."

They reconvened in the middle. This time Antonio effortlessly claimed black and white ball and, gracefully evading the larger teen, headed down the field. "No way!" Alfred shouted and full-out sprinted towards the goalposts, abandoning the idea of trying to snatch the ball away from the agile brunet.

Antonio kicked the ball towards the goal, and Alfred made a desperate dive. He just had time to feel a surge of elation as his fingers touched the smooth surface of the ball before he felt a blinding, crippling pain in his head. "Alfred? Alfred! _Mi Dios! _Are you okay?" the blond heard blurrily, as if he was underwater.

Then everything faded to black.

**xXx**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks to Firekat Archer for beta-ing! (Is that a word? Firekat, tell me! XD)**

**xXx**

Lovino stood by his locker, arms folded crossly. He looked at the clock on the wall for what seemed like the hundredth time, and then started tapping his fingers. _Where the hell is that idiot? _The hallway was practically empty by now, with everyone in a hurry to get home. At least no one could stare at him like he's a loser for waiting around by himself, now, but still. He wanted to go home, too. He was hungry, dammit!

"Lovino!" The brunet started and then turned around, only to see a blond teen standing next to him and looking mildly frustrated. Lovino blinked.

"Oh sorry, Mathew, I didn't see you there."

"Yeah, I know," the blond sighed. "Anyways, Alfred's in the nurse's office, and- Lovino? Are you listening?"

The normally tan Italian had turned pale. "Wh-what's wrong with the bastard? He's never sick! He ate a bad burger, didn't he? I knew those things would finally show their evilness one day!"

"No, he's not sick," Mathew answered, shaking his head. "He hit his head playing soccer or something and-Lovino!"

But the slender brunet was gone, running pell-mell down the hallway.

**xXx**

Lovino skidded into the nurse's office and frantically looked around, panting. "Alfred!" he called out, seeing the blond boy stretched out on a couch. "Idiot, what did you do?" He gripped the surprised teen's chin in his hands and tilted his blond head back and forth, looking for bumps. His harsh words were belied by the gentle fingers carded through Alfred's soft blond hair. He paused when he felt a bump; Alfred winced. "Dammit, bastard," the frantic Italian whispered. "What did you do to yourself?"

"Haha, I'm fine!" Alfred laughed somewhat weakly, placing his large hands on Lovino's wrists. "I just bumped my head a little, that's all. I got a little too competitive and ran into the post of the net."

Lovino stared at the boy on the couch. "Are you serious, bastard?"

Alfred gave a sheepish grin. "Unfortunately, yeah," he answered. The Italian shook his head in a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. "You need a keeper," he told the taller boy, and then let him go. "If you're not hurt that badly then let's go already, bastard! You didn't come to my locker." He absolutely did not pout.

"Sorry!" Alfred tried to stand, only to sink back on the couch with a groan. "Sorry," he said again, softly, and put his hand on his head. "I'm just a little dizzy. Hold on a sec."

The Italian's hazel eyes were huge and he had both of his hands outstretched to the blond, ready to catch him if he fell over or something. "Are you sure you're all right, bastard? You don't need to go to the hospital or anything, do you?"

"No," Alfred reassured Lovino. "The nurse just said I got a mild concussion, but it should be better soon. Not sure if I'm gonna be able to drive, though."

"Your brother couldn't?"

"Mattie had to go somewhere. Probably on a date with Beilschmidt," Alfred's look momentarily darkened, but then snapped back to cheerful blue. "I just asked him to find you first to let you know I wouldn't be able to drive you home today!"

Lovino was staring again, this time in disbelief. "And how are you going to get home, _stupido_?"

The American blinked his blue eyes. "Er…hadn't thought of that one."

The brunet resisted the urge to slap his palm on his face. This idiot was going to be the death of him. "Keys," he demanded, holding out his hand.

Alfred was confused at first, but then said, "Oh!" and fished them out of his pocket. "You're going to drive me home, Lovino?" He grinned.

"Not like I have a choice," the Italian said gruffly, turning to hide his blush. "Come on then."

Alfred still couldn't stand up by himself, so Lovino pulled him up and helped him towards the parking lot. "Just don't fall on me," he warned. "You're so huge I'd never get us up again."

"Haha, okay!" Alfred laughed.

Lovino blushed and tried to ignore the way that the American's arm was draped over his shoulder, and the warmth of Alfred's surprisingly muscular side was pressed against his.

_Just friends, _he repeated to himself like a mantra.

**xXx**


	11. Chapter 11

**xXx**

Lovino helped Alfred to his door and handed him his keys. "Here you go, _bastardo_," he said, and waited for the blond to open the door.

Alfred rifled through the keys on the ring a few times and then turned towards Lovino, his sheepish grin making a reappearance. "Er, I'm kind of seeing double. Not sure which one is right." Lovino took the key ring from him with a scoff, selected the right one, and then pushed Alfred aside to unlock the door.

The hazel-eyed teen turned around only to be met with a swaying Alfred. The blond caught himself with a hand on the door on either side of Lovino. "Sorry," the larger teen breathed. "I'm still kind of dizzy."

His nose was mere scant inches from Lovino's own, and his warm breath wafted across the Italian's face. Lovino was so red that he wouldn't have been surprised if Alfred could feel the warmth from his face. Then again, the American was so close that even if Lovino wasn't blushing, the American probably could have felt his body heat anyway- _chigi_!

Alfred blinked and the blur in front of him swam into focus. Lovino was pressed into the door as if he was trying to pass straight through it, face bright red. _Huh, _the American thought. _He's pretty adorable when he's all red like that. And I never saw those gold flecks in Lovino's eyes before…_

His eyes traveled down to the blushing brunet's slightly parted lips. Alfred leaned forward…

_Holy crap! _The blond jerked back in realization of what he had nearly done, panicked and almost as red as Lovino. The latter looked as if someone had hit him over the head with a blunt object. "Um- uh, thanksfordrivingmehome!" Alfred spat out, and then squeezed in his front door past a frozen Lovino. His arm brushed Lovino's shoulder, and the blond couldn't help but shiver. Alfred practically slammed the door, and then sank down to the ground on the other side. He hadn't freaked out this bad since- hell, he couldn't even remember! What the hell was he doing back there? Friends don't kiss friends!

Suddenly, Alfred noticed the banging on the door behind his back. "Wh-what is it?" he asked, dry mouthed, ridiculously afraid to open the door.

"Bastard!" Lovino shouted on the other side. "How am I supposed to get home, now? It's _your_ car!"

"Oh, right." Alfred laughed weakly, and then slowly opened the door, steadfastly avoiding eye contact. "Mattie'll drive you home later, whenever he gets back, 'kay?"

"Yeah, whatever," Lovino grumbled, red-faced and not looking at Alfred either. "I'm starving. Got any decent food? None of that fast food crap!"

And just like that, they were okay again.

Alfred got caught up in feeding the irritable Italian, beating the pants off of him in video games, and then feeding him again so he would stop sulking. (Even though Lovi was super adorable when he sulked.)

He didn't remember the strange experience he had until much, much later, when Lovino was gone and he was alone in bed. Then, he remembered the exact color of Lovino's eyes, gently touched his own lips, and blushed.

_What the hell is going on? _he wondered.

**xXx**


	12. Chapter 12

Lovino dialed his locker combination on auto-pilot, mind still on whatever had transpired between him and Alfred last night. It had really looked like…but no, he and Alfred were just friends. So what the hell? He grabbed his English text-book and shook his head, scowling at his own idiocy.

_Chigi! What the hell are you getting disappointed for? _he scolded himself. Just-friends was better, anyway. He didn't need a repeat of what happened with Antonio. Getting your hopes up just led to the world feeling the need to show you exactly how stupid you are. And besides, it's not like he wanted to date that giant blond idiot or anything! The idiot couldn't even read the damn atmosphere…

Slamming his locker shut, the Italian turned away, still inwardly muttering dark thoughts about the American teen. Suddenly, he ran into something warm and solid. "Oof!" came from in front of him, and Lovino looked up to see Antonio smiling down at him. The brunet's hazel eyes widened, and then he was pushing himself backward frantically, away from the warm, steadying gasp at his elbows.

"Wh-what the hell do you want?" He spat out, eyes desperately searching for an exit. He felt like a cornered animal, trapped against the lockers like that. He had desperately avoided the Spanish boy as soon as he had learned that the older boy had come back to school. Now was the first time that Antonio had managed to catch him. _Damn Alfred for distracting me!_

"Calm down, Lovi," the green-eyed teen laughed. "I'm not going to bite or anything."

Lovino's eyes were caught by the way the sunlight hit Antonio's throat when the latter threw his head back to laugh, and he was breathless. _Dammit, _the Italian thought distractedly. _I am so screwed._

"I need to talk to you, Lovi," the older boy continued, more seriously. He took a step forward and Lovino promptly took one back. He could feel the cool metal of the lockers against his back, and he knew that short of making a break for it past Antonio, there was nowhere he could go.

"Wh-what?" he asked flatly, avoiding those green eyes. Despite himself, he couldn't help but feel embarrassed that Antonio had seen him crying last time they met.

"Lovi," the Spanish teen said softly, gently tilting the tense boy's chin up until Lovino was meeting his eyes. A concerned expression had replaced the usual smile on Antonio's face. Lovino shivered. "Lovi," the Spanish boy continued. "I am so, so sorry for not saying goodbye to you. I just… it was such a good opportunity and all, and I knew that if I saw you, looked you in the eyes, I would _never _have been able to bring myself to leave you."

Lovino stopped breathing, hazel eyes wide and fixed on Antonio's green ones. "I'm so sorry," Antonio said again. His other arm gently stroked down the Italian's arm until he reached his hand, where he grasped it. "Can you forgive me?"

The smaller teen remained frozen for a second, trying to sort through his conflicted feelings. Part of him was screaming '_Yes!'_, while another was still furious, and, inexplicably, _another _part of Lovino was thinking of Alfred, for some reason. Slowly, he asked, "And the postcards?"

Antonio looked confused, and Lovino felt the stab in his gut again. The Spanish teen just had time to say, "_Lo siento_, Lovi, but I don't-," before the angry boy shoved him away.

"Fuck off!" Lovino shouted. "Don't touch me, you inconsiderate asshole!" He tried to shove past the taller boy, before he was stopped by a firm grip on his arm.

Antonio spun him around, and said, "Lovi-," before seeming to give up on talking to the snarling teen.

So he kissed him.

Lovino froze. No matter how hard he screamed at it to move, his body wouldn't listen. In fact, humiliatingly, he was hard pressed not to kiss back.


	13. Chapter 13

Arthur rubbed his forehead in frustration, trying to concentrate on the papers in front of him. It would have been a lot easier if a certain annoying blond wasn't there. Alfred had been sitting on a table, swinging his legs and heaving huge sighs for nigh on ten minutes now. Arthur had been steadfastly ignoring him.

Finally, he broke. "What do you _want_, Alfred?" the Brit asked exasperatedly. "You shouldn't even _be_ in the Student Council Room!"

"Artie…" Alfred whined. "I don't know what to do…"

"_What?_" the shorter teen snapped. "I swear to God, Alfred, if this is about one of your stupid video games again-."

"It's not!" Alfred interrupted. "I- I think I'm sick. Besides, they're not stupid," he muttered.

Immediately, Arthur looked concerned. "Does your head still hurt?" he asked, coming around his desk to peer at the other teen's head. "You git, you shouldn't have come to school today, I _told _you!" Now that he thought about it, Alfred had been acting strangely today. He had been altogether too quiet.

"It's not my head," Alfred pouted. "Well, ok, it still hurts, but I think I have the flu or something."

Arthur immediately pulled pack. "You're not going to throw up, are you?"

"No," Alfred shook his head. "It's just…whenever I think about Lovino, my stomach feels weird and my face gets all hot. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Arthur gave him a blank stare. "You're kidding, right?"

"No! Why would I be? You gotta help me, Artie!" The distraught blond threw his arms around the Arthur's waist and started sobbing.

Ruthlessly, Arthur peeled him off. "You're an idiot," he informed the crying Alfred.

"What if I'm allergic to Lovi?" Alfred panicked. "That would suck! I'd never get to see him! No! I'd see him anyway! I-!"

Arthur slapped his hand over the rambling American's mouth. "You're not allergic," he told him. "You're in-."

Arthur was cut off by the sound of shouting from outside the room. Judging from all the swear words, that sounded like-

"That's Lovino," said Alfred, instantly forgetting about his troubles. Without even glancing at Arthur, he stood up and headed towards the door. All of a sudden, the shouting was cut off abruptly.

Alfred started running.

He whipped open the door and tore into the hallway, Arthur following close behind.

The scene that met them caused Alfred to skid to a stop. Arthur narrowly avoided running into him, too busy gaping at the two teens to watch where he was going.

Antonio was holding Lovino by both arms and firmly kissing him. Lovino looked stiff and wasn't kissing back, but he wasn't pulling away, either.

Arthur tore himself away from the shocking scene to look up at Alfred. The American teen was staring at the two brunets. His face was completely blank, but his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white, and his eyes looked desperate.

Arthur didn't know what was going to happen next, but he _did_ know that it wasn't going to be pretty.

_Bollocks, _he thought to himself, _I should have taken Francis's invitation to cut class today._


	14. Chapter 14

Alfred felt his nails dig into his palms as his jaw ticked from how hard he was gritting his teeth. Everything in him was screaming for him to yank that bastard away from Lovi, but at the same time…

Lovino wasn't pulling away.

The normally-confident teen was conflicted. On one hand, he didn't want Antonio near Lovino, but on the other…well, what if Antonio was right? _Was _it weird for friends to interfere in who their friends date?

All Alfred really wanted was for the slender brunet to be happy, and if Antonio made him happy there was nothing he could do, right?

Jaw gritted, he watched for a sign, any sign, that Lovino wanted to be away from the older teen's grip. Antonio had seemingly given up on trying to get the Italian to kiss him back, but he still held Lovino close, resting his forehead on the shorter teen's. "Lovi," he murmured. The two were so absorbed in each other that they had no idea that Alfred and Arthur were behind them, holding their breath in the silence.

Alfred tensed even more, ready for action, as Lovino moved for the first time. The Italian slowly brought one hand up and rested it, flat palmed, on Antonio's chest. Alfred still didn't move, indecisive. Was Lovino trying to push him away, or pull him closer? Push him away, right? Or was that just wishful thinking?

Arthur looked up at the taller blond in half sympathy, half mild exasperation. He could practically see the smoke coming out of the American's ears. Alfred was built for action, black and white, good versus evil. _Not_ for waiting around in the grey area.

Suddenly, Arthur heard a soft sound, almost like a sob. He just had time to see Alfred's blue eyes widen before the blond took off.

Alfred roughly shoved Antonio away. "Lovi!" the American exclaimed, immediately taking Antonio's place in front of the brunet. "Are you okay? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"A-Alfred?" Lovino stammered, hazel eyes wide and shiny with held back tears. "What- where did you come from?"

"Er, I was over there watching," the American admitted sheepishly. He wiped off the single tear on Lovino's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Sorry I didn't do anything earlier, but I wasn't sure if- you know what?" Alfred shook his head, "It doesn't matter. Are you okay?"

Antonio, who had been just standing and watching the exchange in shock, finally came forward. "_Lo siento,_" he said, smiling with steely eyes, "but we were talking. Give us a moment, _si_?"

Alfred's gut reaction was to tell him to fuck off, normal friendliness lost in the haze of anger that Lovi's tears had caused, but- He hesitated and turned to Lovino, still not completely sure if the other actually wanted his interference. "Lovi?" he asked cautiously.

The Italian's hazel eyes widened as they met his. He clearly had no idea what Alfred wanted from him. "What, _bastardo_?"

"Do you want to talk to him?" Alfred clarified, while trying not to smile at the adorable scrunch the brunet's eyebrows made when he was annoyed and confused.

Lovino was taken aback by the question. "Oh, I thought you were just going to tell him to fuck off or something."

Alfred couldn't help but laugh. "I admit, I considered it. But seriously, it's your decision. I'm not going to get in your way."

"Oh. You're- you're not?" Lovino twisted his hands in his sleeves and then glanced at Antonio and then back. Alfred almost thought that he looked like his feelings were hurt or something. But nah, that wouldn't make sense.

"Do you want to talk to him?" Alfred asked cautiously. "Because if so, then I'll back off, but if not, then I'll take care of him." The normally cheerful and friendly blond looked menacing for a moment.

Lovino hesitated, then said, "I- I want to talk to him." He tried to ignore the instantly hurt look on Alfred's face. He grabbed the blonde's sleeve before he could back away, however, and said, "Where do you think you're going, bastard?"

"Uh," Alfred blinked his blue eyes. "To give you guys some privacy?"

The hazel-eyed teen bit his lip, eyes darting to the side and blushing fiercely. "Um…could you stay?" he whispered, seemingly subconsciously shifting so that Alfred's body blocked Antonio's view. When Alfred met his eyes Lovino flushed.

"Not that- I mean, I don't need you or anything, bastard! Don't get me wrong! I just-."

Alfred blinked, and then smiled softly. "Hey, don't worry. I get it. I'm not going anywhere."

"All right," Lovino said softly. He took a deep breath, and then moved around Alfred to face Antonio, eyes narrowed in determination. He stood straight and tall, but his hand still gripped Alfred's sleeve.

Lovino's hazel eyes met Antonio's green ones determinedly. "_Bastardo. _We need to talk."


	15. Chapter 15

**Um. I am so so sorry this took so long. This chapter kind of kicked my butt. I'm just gonna leave it here and slink away…**

**xXx**

"_Bastardo. _We need to talk."

Antonio took a deep breath and then squared his shoulders, green eyes apprehensive but steady. "Alright," he answered.

Lovino gulped. Now that he was finally at this point he didn't really know what to say.

Having your heart broken and then more than a year of radio silence (he still wasn't counting those shitty postcards) and then Alfred… What the hell was he supposed to _say _to that? But he was going to try.

Slowly, Lovino started. "Bastard- Antonio. I think you- I mean- I think you want something that I can't give."

Antonio flinched, green eyes closing in despair. He knew that he couldn't expect forgiveness, or even deserve it-

Unaware of the Spanish teen's inner turmoil, Lovino continued, "At least not right now. But you were one of my best friends, even though you're frickin' annoying, don't get me wrong, and-"

"Wait," Antonio interrupted. "Not…right now?" His eyes lit up with renewed hope. "Then later, maybe? You'll maybe date me later, _mi amor?"_

The shorter teen was flustered now. "Um, we- well- I guess?"

Arthur watched this by peering through his fingers like he was watching an imminent train wreck. So much for progress. Poor Alfred, who looked as if he was either about to throw up or throw Lovino over his shoulder and run off with him.

"Yay!" Antonio squealed ecstatically and jumped on Lovino, wrapping his arms around him. Alfred twitched and clenched his fists.

"Woah"! Lovi flailed, blushing madly and trying to shove him off. "Don't think this means anything, bastard! That wasn't a yes, or a promise or anything! That was a _maybe_! A maybe! Shit!"

Lovino finally shoved Antonio away, and proceeded to sprint away down the hallway, Alfred after him like a speeding bullet, yelling, "Lovino! Wait!"

Stunned and blinking, Antonio just watched them go for a second before turning to follow. He was stopped by a hand grabbing his arm. He looked around to see acid green eyes under enormous, frowning eyebrows. "Not you," Arthur stated with all the authority of the ruler of an empire, instead of just the Student Body President. "You lost the chance to be the guy who goes after Lovino the day you left."

Refusing to be cowed by a guy that he'd never really liked anyway, Antonio spat, "And _Alfred_ is?"

"Yes," Kirkland answered mercilessly. Then, seeing the darker teen's stricken expression, he seemed to soften a bit. Arthur sighed, and then started pulling Antonio towards the Student Council room. "Sit down," he ordered, "and I'll tell you a story that Alfred told me."

"I first met Alfred," Arthur started, "when he first moved to this school. Wang Yao was still president, and I was just a Student Council member. I was giving the new students Alfred and his brother a tour…"

**xXx**

Alfred looked around the hallways of his new school nervously as he trailed behind his brother and the tour guide. Well, not _nervously_, obviously, 'cuz heroes never get nervous but still. This place was weird, and what the heck was going on with the guide's eyebrows? He was getting bad vibes from this place, seriously.

The three of them were heading down one of the second floor hallways, heading towards the art room, according to the guide- Artie, right?- when Alfred first saw something that would change not only his opinion of the school, but his life forever.

An angel was in the hall ahead of him.

He was standing at the window, gazing down outside with a pensive, thoughtful expression in his eyes. The light was bouncing off his bright eyes and dark hair in a golden color that seemed to illuminate the stunning figure, shining soft and golden on the surroundings. He looked as if he glowed.

Alfred's breath caught as he stared.

"Hey? Alfred? Hey!" He was jarred as someone grabbed his elbow roughly, and finally the American freshman looked around. "Huh?" he asked intelligently, blinking owlishly as if someone had just woken him from a strange and compelling dream.

Mathew was gripping him firmly around the arm and Alfred's foot was half off the edge of the stairs. He had nearly walked right off without noticing. "Oh shit!" the blond yelped, stumbling backward. "Thanks Mattie, that woulda been nasty!" His brother looked at him in concern and grumpy Artie looked at him in exasperation.

"What on earth were you so enthralled with?" the guide asked acidly in his funny British accent.

"Uh…" Alfred hesitated, glancing towards the enchanting figure down the hall- who was now looking right back!

_Holy crap, what am I supposed to do?!_ The blonde's heart rate sped up and he felt a blush suffuse his features, but he couldn't break eye contact with those eyes. Hazel, he decided inanely, with flecks of gold that shone in the sunlight. _Beautiful…_

"What the fuck are you looking at, bastard?" the angel spat, quickly and decisively quashing all imaginings of him in a halo and wings.

Alfred blinked. He was so thrown off that he answered immediately and without hesitation. "You. You're beautiful."

"Ch-chigi!" the brown haired stranger made a funny sound and turned redder than Alfred had ever seen a human being turn before. It was super adorable, and the American's heart flip-flopped in his chest. This guy may not be an angel, but he was definitely interesting. Then and there was when Alfred decided that they were going to be friends.

And _no one _can say no to Alfred Jones for long.


End file.
